The Fight for Otherwold
by Lia Reyes
Summary: There's a whole different world out there, unknown to muggles and magicals alike. Only the most powerful wizards go there once they've died, but as Harry Potter finds out, you don't always need to be dead to get there...post-DH cannon.
1. Chapter 1

There's a whole other world out there, unknown to muggles and magicals alike. Only the most powerful wizards go there once they've died, but as Harry Potter finds out, you don't need to be dead to get there. So continues his fight against evil...

I own no rights to Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>Why, the bespectacled man mentally chided himself. Why can't I just keep my mouth shut sometimes?<p>

Stuffing his cold hands into the pockets of his well worn jeans, the continued down the sidewalk, making his way from his and Ginny's flat.

_'Did you get the milk?' the redhead had asked, Teddy loudly crashing cars together as he sat on the floor in the den. _

_'I didn't know I was supposed to,' Harry replied after a moment of hesitation. With a huff, and a roll of her eyes, Ginny turned back to the pot of food that was stirring itself. Though most nights it was Harry acting the house-wife, at least once every few weeks Ginny would decide to give him a break.  
><em>

_'Seriously? I thought we agreed this morning?'_

_'I don't remember that.'_

_'I said that we needed milk while you were getting ready.'_

_'Okay?'_

_'Yeah, and you said okay._ _You were supposed to have gotten some.'_

_'I still don't remember saying that.'_

_'You said okay!'_

_'Okay?'  
><em>

Which had apparently been the wrong thing to say. With a screech, and the wave of her wand, Ginny banished him from the house until he brought her some milk.

His shoulder's hunched forward at the biting chill of late autumn. Or should he call it early winter at this point? Did it even matter?

He passed a dark alleyway before he paused, head cocked. Was that a moan?

Harry shot a brief glance around his surroundings. The town's marketplace was just ahead, he hoped desperately that they were still open, otherwise he'd be forced to apparate to the grocer's that was a town over - not that it'd be a hindrance or particularly stressful, but he'd just finished at 12 hour shift, thank you much. He stilled his breathing. There was the sound again!

"Er, are you okay in there?" he called tentatively, cursing his conscious not for the first time. After another moment of silence, he flicked his wrist, holding the want so that just the tip was poking from his jacket's sleeve. Unless looking too closely, muggles would just most likely take it as a flashlight, and for those that tried to get a closer look, well, he'd just have to dip into his rather impressive repertoire of memory charms.

With a silent _lumos_, the wand tip lit up brilliantly. Harry waived his hand in front of him, revealing the empty alleyway.

But then where?

With one step he was shrouded by the darkness of the looming buildings on either side of him. He paused just a second longer before continuing in. One corner, then another. He was let out into an unpaved, dead street. Small, separate houses clustered around either side of it, broken only by a large park, located across the street from him.

He had been there several times before when taking Teddy out - it had a small playground and many walking trails which all seemed to lead to a little duck pond in the center of the entire park.

Cocking his head to the side once more, Harry listened.

A moan from behind.

He spun, wand at the ready in front of him.

Nothing.

He suppressed the urge to shudder, hairs on the back of his neck and arms on end.

"You're losing it mate," he muttered to himself. Nevertheless his wand did not leave his hand as he reentered the alleyway. He paused at the end, turning to look to his right - he could have sworn that that had just been a dead end. Bringing his wand closer, Harry studied what seemed to be a veil, as anything beyond it was indiscernible.

But to where?

Looking around, finding himself still alone, he turned back, gingerly poking the entryway with his wand. After all, as an Auror, he was just as responsible for keeping the magical world secret as he was for protecting it, and he'd trade his right arm if there wasn't something magical about this.

What previously looked to be some kind of solid wasn't anything at all, as his wand met no resistance. Soon his entire arm was in the entryway. Harry withdrew his hand. An illusion then. He cast a complicated, though passive shield that would protect him from any sort of physical damage, though it wouldn't hold up for more than a few seconds of onslaught.

Wand firmly in hand and precautions for whatever could be waiting for him set, Harry Potter stepped confidently over the threshold. Behind him the alleyway melted away, as his world turned upside down and sideways before returning to right-side up.

He was wet, he realized, standing in a pool of water that he had apparently risen out of. Looking around in bafflement, he tried to assess his surroundings.

It seemed to be a small, inside courtyard garden, walled in on all four sides with a set of double doors directly opposite of him. The pool of water that he was in was located in a rather shallow basin of marble, a matching pathway leading right to the doors. On either side of the bath were light-colored, granite benches, and behind them foliage. Vines crept up the walls, lilac trees, rose bushes, and a variety of other flowers decorated the room, giving off a sweet, floral aroma. He looked up. Water poured from mid-air, creating a fall that never seemed to flood the pool.

A spell he decided, one that cycled the water already in the pool up and back down. A bright colored butterfly fluttered past, settling on one of the bushes, basking in a ray of sunlight.

Sunlight.

Harry looked up to the warm, pulsating midday sun. Birds chirped, bees buzzed, and the flowers bloomed. Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore, he thought, remembering a line from one of very few movies he'd seen during his childhood. It had been back in primary, right before the Christmas break, because of course the Dursley's had never let him watch anything inside the house.

He took a step from the pool, almost feeling bad at the water that dripped and pooled generously onto the previously immaculate floor. He turned to look at the pool. The surface shimmered from a combination of the waterfall and sun. Or did it?

He got closer, kneeling before reaching down with caution, shield still in place until activated by danger. Though he could have sworn where he had previously been standing was hard stone, he felt more of a glossy, squishy texture, at the bottom of the water pool.

"Ah, there you are, my boy."

Harry spun around at the voice, falling backwards into the water with a gasp.

"Good to see that the years haven't changed you, child. It has been too long."

Gaping, Harry looked into a very familiar pair of blue eyes that he hadn't seen in nearly five years.

"H-headmaster?"

"Oh my boy, I'm no longer a headmaster anywhere. Albus is fine."

Still in shock, Harry blinked. And then again. Albus Dumbledore looked younger than Harry had ever remember seeing him - to include the brief time in Riddle's Diary. His face was smooth, auburn beard short and neatly trimmed, his wavy hair was well kept and brushed out of his face.

"H-headmaster?"

"You don't look very well Mr. Potter, are you feeling alright?"

Harry's vision swam, the question echoing in his head before he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a whole other world out there, unknown to muggles and magicals alike. Only the most powerful wizards go there once they've died, but as Harry Potter finds out, you don't need to be dead to get there. So continues his fight against evil...

I own no rights to Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>He came to, laying in a cocoon of warmth. The plush bed beneath him hugged his aching muscles. With a sigh of content, he prepared to fall back asleep before his mind kicked into action.<p>

The doorway, the courtyard, the pool, Dumbledore!

Harry's eyes snapped open, as he sat upright, blanket falling to pool around his waist. With wide, unfocused eyes he took in what he could see of the room. It was bright, with a lot of creme and brown. Squinting, he searched near the bed, making out what he assumed to be an side table. His guess was right as he reached forward, fumbling on the surface before his hands found the familiar frames.

Pushing his glasses onto his face, Harry took in the room with clarity. A large bay window seemed to overlook a forest's meadow, allowing the late afternoon sunlight to stream in. The floor and wardrobe was a warm light brown wood, paired blandly with creme-washed walls. Mattress aside, the bed he was in was a rather boring four poster, creme sheets silky against the bare skin of his arms. Gaze going to the side table again, he grabbed his wand, before struggling away from the seductive comfort of the bed.

Harry found his trainers and jacket, folded neatly on a small desk. Slipping into them, he surveyed the room once more, noting that aside from the sheets, nothing was out of place. With a nod of satisfaction, he turned towards the door again, stopping before he exited.

As a second thought, he cast several diagnostic spells on himself, some legal and others not. After determining that nothing had changed, he renewed his passive shield spell before opening the door. It swung silently, and he closed it just as quiet, before taking in the hall. It was wide and bright.

He stood for a moment, looking both ways. To the right was a large window at the end of the hall, but otherwise seemed to be a dead end. With a nod of finality, Harry turned towards the left, silently casting a muffling spell on his feet before setting out, wand in his hand, ready to fight.

There was no need however. He met very few people, and those that he came across didn't seem to care less about this total stranger, however oddly he was acting. Brow furrowing, Harry continued on his blind journey, making an effort to appear as if he knew where he was going.

After all, the easiest way to go unnoticed is to act like you belong, like you know what you're doing.

Two large doors stood open to his left, and Harry peaked into the room after a second of contemplation. It was a library, the largest Harry had ever seen. The room easily outsized the Hogwarts library, which was no small feet, and, after craning his neck, Harry realized that it had to be at least five stories tall, with various staircases that moved between each level.

A handful of children were huddled around one table, and Harry frowned. They all seemed so different.

A pale, waif-like, dark haired girl wearing old fashioned breeches and a long tunic that was such a pale blue it was almost white. She seemed to be in charge. To her right was an Asian boy, perhaps sixteen if Harry were to guess. He was dressed in robes similar to a monk. To his left was a young child, perhaps ten, with warm brown eyes and light hair, dressed in what reminded Harry as hospital scrub pants and a simple t-shirt. Further on was a dark-skinned boy, somewhere between the first two in age. He had a pair of brown pants but nothing else. Lastly there was another girl, with strawberry blonde hair and her face angled away from Harry. She was wearing a yellow sundress.

He listened to their discussion for a moment.

"Inconsistent," the dark haired girl was saying, dismissing the idea.

"Not unless you change the algorithm here," the youngest boy pointed out. Harry crept closer, craning his neck to peer over their bent heads.

Arithmancy, or the math behind spells. He had never taken the subject himself, he thought ruefully.

"But all that does is change the power input, nothing about the result," the girl rebutted the idea. "For that to happen, you'd also have to change it here," she snapped, pointing to another equation of numbers, which Harry deducted was all one spell.

"But not if you change the first part, which would be the motion," the second girl argued, pointing to another grouping of numbers.

"Fine, you compute it then," the first girl said with a scowl.

The rest of the group proceeded to do just that, quietly discussing the process.

Harry stepped back, right into something hard. Heart racing, he spun around, wand firmly grasped still.

"There's no changing her mind," the woman said, nodding to the dark haired girl. She was very pretty, and looked to be a few years older than Harry. "I'm Gail."

Harry stared for a moment.

"Hullo."

He shifted awkwardly, but the woman didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were a warm hazel, brown hair falling around her face in soft waves.

"Er, where am I?" he asked finally, wondering if he had just imagined his deceased former headmaster.

"You're at the Abbey. Harry is it?"

His mental alarms started going off, and Harry tensed.

"Yes."

"We were wondering when you'd show up. Didn't think you'd still be alive though."

Harry blinked, thrown off at her easy tone.

"Huh?"

"Well for most people who come here, it's their afterlife. You're a rare case, though if my source is correct that's nothing new for you."

Harry blinked once again in confusion.

"Afterlife?"

"Afterlife," Gail nodded a confirmation. "There are others who come here before their time however, such as yourself."

Harry stared.

"Before my time...so I'm not dead then?"

Her laughter was musical, causing the waif-like girl to look up from the group's work, eyes lingering on the woman, before narrowing at Harry. He shifted with unease at her icy gaze.

"Forgive me, I haven't explained much have I? I'm not usually the greeter. You seem to be without one, though, so I thought I'd stop over."

"Greeter?"

Harry stiffened as the woman wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him away as he looked for an out.

"To get straight to the point, you're not on Earth anymore."

Harry's brain was just several moments away from a short-circuit.

"Not on Earth?" he echoed back, tone flat.

"Correct. You are in a place that we have come to know as the Otherwold."

"The Otherworld?" he repeated again, tone still flat.

"Correct. Think of it as a parallel universe to Earth. Of course," Gail nodded to a large hanging map, showing one predominant landmass surrounded by water, though there were several smaller land masses broken off on either side. "The landmass to ocean composition is different, because as I said, you're not on Earth. You are in an entirely different world, thus the Otherworld."

Harry stared at the map, mouth agape. Finally his brain decided to reactivate.

"Okay, I don't know if you're crazy, or if I'm crazy, but I need to get home. My wife's kind of expecting milk."

Well, it was mostly functioning at least.

"Don't worry Harry, for as long as you are here, time ceases to continue for you on Earth."

The bespectacled man blinked, trying to make heads of the statement.

"So what, when I return to Earth no time will have passed?"

"Precisely. For as long as you're alive, that is. Once you die on Earth, you'll return here for your afterlife, and life on Earth will continue as it was meant to."

"And can I die here?"

Gail bowed her head for a moment, expression somber.

"Yes. If you were to die here, you cease to exist all together, in both worlds. You will not become a ghost, you will have no more afterlife, and any portrait or memoir of you will no longer be animated. Quite simply, you are erased from existence."

Harry gulped.

"Well in that case, I think I'll stick with Earth if it's all the same."

Gail's musical laughter once again rang out, almost hypnotic, as Harry stared.

"Alas, the choice is not yours to make Harry. As with life, it rarely is."

The man fell silent, looking around the large library, catching sight of himself in the reflective glass. He looked a bit younger than the twenty that he was, hair in disarray from his recent slumber.

"So wait, why am I here again? And how exactly did I arrive?"

Gail led him to a large, plush armchair, unto which he gratefully fell, energy sapped as he tried to wrap his mind around this predicament.

"No one quite knows why people come to Otherworld, or how or where it originated from. It's history has been documented by everyone that has set foot," Gail waved at the walls and walls of books. There had to be billions if Harry were to guess.

Hermione would kill to see this place.

"You see, it's a complicated place to explain," the woman continued. "Time does not flow here as it does on Earth. For eons people have been sent here as their afterlife. Most are magical, but others are simply great, in one way or another. We have yet to solve the selection process, though some evidence suggests that it has as much to do with mental capability as it does physical or magical.

Now, when someone who the Otherworld recognizes as great, in whatever sentient or insentient way it does, dies, they come here. The thing is, however, they're physically reverted back to the age that they were when they reached their most potential. They retain their life experiences, and memories, but they no longer age physically beyond what they are. Because of this, you cannot determine someone's age based on how old they look."

Here Gail's gaze dragged back to the group of children, whom Harry was starting to realize probably weren't really children.

"The more powerful revert to an earlier age - for example at whatever point you are in your life when you die back on Earth, you will probably return here the age you currently are."

Harry grimaced, which Gail ignored.

"Now there are also the cases where someone great dies while they are still a child, before they can reach their full potential, in which they arrive in this world the age that they were when they died. They will not age anymore.

The drawback of the entire situation, however, is that while mentally everyone here continues to age, as well as retaining all their memories from before they died, they are physically restricted to the ways that their bodies are. We're the lucky ones, we're not eternally stuck at the cusp of puberty."

Suddenly Harry was content with being the age he was now.

"Unfortunately, the personality and temperament of how each person was at that physical age tends to overshadow their life experiences and personal growth. If, for example, someone grew out of shyness or temperament, but reverts back to the physical age where they still could not control those impulses, they will forever be fighting for that control over their emotions. Such is the curse of eternal youth."

Harry shuttered, finally realizing how lucky he was to probably be stuck at this age one day. Imagine if I went back to fifteen or sixteen, he wondered, remembering his seemingly uncontrollable temper and rashness well. After the fall of Voldemort, he had thankfully matured quite a bit.

He stayed silent, mulling over all that he had been told.

"How often do people come to Otherworld?"

Gail smiled.

"Typically one person from each generation is sent, though in rare cases there can be two per generation."

"And is Headmaster - I mean Albus Dumbledore really here?" Harry asked, trying to place his recollection. Gail nodded.

"He arrived a few decades back," she answered. Harry blinked, before remembering her having mentioned the difference of time flow. What was a couple years for Harry was evidently a lot longer for his former headmaster. It would also explain why he looked so young. "Shortly after him came a man he called Tom."

Harry froze. Tom. Tom Riddle. Voldemort. Could he really be here?

"Unfortunately, yes my boy. He is indeed here," a familiar voice answered, as if reading his thoughts. Harry turned towards Dumbledore, once again staring at the changes. Next to his former headmaster was a younger man, physically about Harry's own age. His hair was dark and straight, falling to his shoulders as it curved around his, Harry noted with interest, slightly pointed ears. Dark eyes peered at him from under a thick, dark brow. His cheeks were scared, as though from fire.

He wore a pair of breeches and a brown tunic, a sword strapped at his hip, comfortably holding a wooden staff. Harry's head tilted, taking in the various carvings on the wood with interest.

"Ahhh, these carvings," the man said, reading into Harry's gaze with centuries of experience, "Are the souls of the seven songs of wizardry."

Harry's brow furrowed at the statement.

"The seven songs of wizardry?"

"A journey I undertook in my youth, to save my mother from a most horrible fate. The songs of changing, binding, protecting, naming, leaping, eliminating, and seeing. The very fundamentals to all things magic. I shall teach them to you one day, if you do not learn them yourself first."

Harry tore his eyes from the staff, meeting the dark gaze that seemed to stare through his very being.

"Forgive me Harry, I have heard much about you. I am Emrys, though you would know of me by my chosen name. I eventually called myself Merlin."

For the second time in under a day, Harry's head swam. He counted it a success when he managed to push the feeling aside for just a moment.

"M-m-merlin you say? Oh."

With that his world went black once more, brain finally overloaded with information.

* * *

><p>A rare note that I will make - if you've read the<em> Lost Years of Merlin<em> series by T. A. Barron, then you'll recognize the portrayal of Merlin that I will use. The books are more or less irrelevant to this story, but if you have not read it, I recommend it highly; it's one of my all time favorites.


End file.
